


Promises

by agentcalliope



Series: Promise(s) [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feels, Female Friendship, Fitzsimmons in later chapters, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, IM NEVER OVER MAMA MAY FEELS, JEMMA SAVING MAY IS WHAT I HAD BEEN WAITING FOR FOR YEARS, Male-Female Friendship, Team as Family, as of 4x03, canon compliant as of 4x22, now updated, trigger warnings for mentions of a non-consensual relationship and abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcalliope/pseuds/agentcalliope
Summary: Daisy, Jemma, and Fitz promise May.





	1. Daisy

**Author's Note:**

> this is my follow up to Promise, a story of the three times May makes a promise. You don't have to read it to understand this piece, except to know that May finds Daisy and gives her a burner cell phone to call when she's ready to come home. thanks to clearascountryair for betaing SHES AMAZING

* * *

The burner phone burns in her pocket, and she pretends like she doesn’t feel anything. Oh, she plays the game all right. She takes the Director’s orders with a grunt and a nod, although she hopes he can see the fire in her eyes. She becomes an S.O to younger agents during the day and only thinks of herself still as an S.O to another young agent during the night.

Even when May finally erupted, and Jemma finally erupted back, May still played the game.

 

But the phone still burns in her pocket and the thought that she’s kept to herself for all these years burns in her mind.

 

It’s taken her a while, but May finally realizes that there’s a difference between becoming a ghost, and being haunted by them.

 

A small difference, of course— barely noticeable, barely even there. In the beginning, May saw no difference. Once, right after _it_ happened, she looked in the mirror as steam rose up from the untouched shower and she did nothing as it fogged up the glass. She watched as her reflection became harder and harder to see until her image became distant and hidden. She saw with dimmed eyes and bowed head a shade of herself she didn’t recognize, reaching out to touch the glass with the very fingers that pulled the trigger until she pulls her hand back, and decides that it was too late to save her.

 

(Too late to save whom, though? That girl was already dead, and that woman in the mirror was close to being it too. It takes May years and years to finally slice the mirror with her fingertips and let the condensation turn into water and drip down the glass until she can finally see herself again.

And that’s the difference, really, what’s taken May all this time to figure out and store in her mind. Between being a ghost and being haunted by them. You never stop being haunted by ghosts, but you can stop trying to become one.)

 

It just takes time.

And she tries to give Daisy as much of it as she can.

*******

When the phone eventually rings, moments after she and the team had picked up Mack and Coulson, May locks herself into the bathroom and fights the thought that Coulson’s right outside.

“Hello?” May answers, her fingers curling around the phone so tightly although there’s no question of who’s calling.

 

“Hey.” Comes the reply, her voice low and quiet but it’s enough because Daisy is alive and she might be trying to become a ghost but she hasn’t succeeded yet.

There’s a bit of static before Daisy continues. “I’m not ready to come home yet, but… I just wanted to see what would happen if I called.”

May’s a bit disappointed, of course.

But she understands.

(Daisy’s struggling to finally reach out and drag her fingertips across her own foggy mirror, and god knows May’s going to stand patiently by her side until she does.)

 

“Well, now you know.”

“Yeah. I guess I do.”

They both wait, and they wait, and they _wait_ until May surprises them both by filling in the silence.

“There’s another reason you called.”

Daisy says nothing, which says everything.

May sits down on the toilet, listening to the sound of Daisy’s labored breathing on the other side, and closes her eyes.

“How’d you know?” Daisy asks, her voice still low and hard but that sarcastic tone that May has grown to love breaks through, just a little.

May brushes a strand of hair away from her face and smirks. “You forget I’ve lived with you for the better part of three years.”

“I didn’t, thanks.”

She hears more of the Daisy she remembers over the phone, and May finds herself desperate to keep her on the line.

“Daisy--”

“I want to promise that I'll be worth it. I really, _really_ do. It's just... I want to be worth it, but right now I'm not.”

 

“Worth what, Daisy?” May whispers.

“Worth their sacrifices,” Daisy whispers back. “Everyone who’s ever been hurt because of me. Trip. Andrew. Lincoln.”

Daisy takes a deep shuddering breath, and May wishes she could reach through the phone and tug Daisy close.

“You don’t own anyone a thing. You don’t owe Trip, you don’t owe Andrew, and you as hell don’t owe Lincoln. They made their own choices, and you aren’t at fault for that. The only person you owe it to be worth it to is _yourself.”_

 

There’s a knock at the door, and May’s startled, ripping the phone away from her ear and clutching it to her chest as Coulson’s voice rings out clear.

“May? You okay? You’ve been in there for a long time.”

“Uh, yeah.” May clears her throat. “Yes. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Oh, I was wondering if you wanted to play Backgammon later.”

“Sure. Give me a few.”

May waits until she can no longer hear Coulson’s footsteps and then she whispers into the receiver.

“Daisy?”

But she’s met with silence, and May exhales long and hard.

 

(It’s only a couple of hours until May again looks in the mirror, and sees herself.

And that everyone else besides her has _actually_ become ghosts.)


	2. Jemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma promises May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry guys i know fitz is supposed to be next but HOW CAN I NOT DO JEMMA AFTER THAT EPISODE HOLY MOTHER OF GOD

* * *

_“Stay away from me!”_

 

They’re everywhere.

They’re everywhere and they’re everyone and every time she blinks the darkness that drapes across everything creeps closer and closer.

No matter how much May screams and shouts the ghosts don’t go away.

And May _screams_.

And she screams, and she screams and she screams because for perhaps the first time in her life May has to fight with her words.

 

May struggles as the restraints cut into her wrists and ankles, the biting pain trickling up her arms and legs. Watching as familiar ghosts float in and out of her vision, the noise that comes out of their mouths growing louder, she thrashes and screams because even though her demons have finally caught up she’s not going to go quietly.

 

(But her wrists _burn_. Her ankles hurt and her voice is hoarse and her bones ache and now there’s a quick sharp pain in her neck. Not only is she still looking at the ghosts, but the darkness that has been creeping around the walls has spread but suddenly all the fight in May is gone, and she closes her eyes.

She remembers another lifetime. Watching as Daisy-before-she-was-Daisy aimed her gun without pause at the target and hit her mark every time.

May remembers feeling _proud_.

But then May remembers the cold steel in Daisy’s eyes and the hatred in her voice carving into the air when she said ‘I imagined they were all Ward’.

And May remembers how her pride turned into guilt because she realized that Daisy aimed her gun without pause at the target and hit her mark every time and Jemma’s still trying to pick up the pieces and Fitz is still so very small.

 

And May remembers is what she told Daisy and hoped that she would understand ‘ _It’s all about control over your mind and your body’._

The last thing May remembers is that right now she has neither)

 

When she begins to feel again—seconds later? minutes? hours? days?—she’s aware that her head is moving side to side and her eyes are fluttering open and close.

And she’s aware that the pain screaming from her body is being hushed by the faintest touch stroking her hair. The touch leaves her hair and before May can cry out it rests on her shoulder.

She can barely feel it.

But she can _feel_ it.

 

May believes that although her demons have caught up her angels haven’t left.

 

The cacophonous noise of the ghosts fades, footsteps echoing and growing distant as May closes her eyes because she’s afraid this time she will wake up.

“You’re going to be alright. I’m going to fix this.”

May knows that voice.

(Jemma Simmons won’t ever stop picking up the pieces no matter how hard it becomes, and Jemma Simmons will always try to save everyone else even though _she’s_ the one in danger)

 

May has to tell her she’s in danger, that she has to leave before the ghosts take over and Jemma’s a ghost forever May can’t let that happen she _won’t_ let—

“You hear me, May?” Jemma whispers. “I _promise_.”

 

May opens her eyes, and she meets Jemma’s, which are too dark and too dead and it’s too late to save her because she’s become a ghost again.

*******

“It’s okay,” The ghost murmurs in Jemma’s voice. “I’m sorry.”

 

(Everything turns black)

 

Later, _it_ will come back in pieces. She’s not able to explain what _it_ is, exactly, because there’s so much May doesn’t understand. But _it_ will come back during nights when she’s wide awake watching the ceiling fan spin around and around and around and May won’t sleep at all because not only is she trying to figure _it_ out but she’s afraid she’ll close her eyes and this time she won’t wake up.

And every damn night she lists what she knows is **fact** , and what she just **knows**.

 

 **Fact:** she died.

 **But May _felt_ Jemma’s hands** **pounding her chest** _c’mon May c’mon May c’mon—_

 

 **Fact:** she died.

 **But May _saw_ Jemma’s face streaked with tears** _you have to come back_ —

 

 **Fact:** she died.

 **But May _heard_ Jemma’s voice frantic and cracking** _I’m not losing you I promised do you hear me Agent May you have to come back that’s an order—_

**Fact:** she died.

 **But maybe some things are stronger than death**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CANT BELIEVE THIS HAPPENED IN CANON (HINT HINT WINK WINK AOS WRITERS PLEASE FIVE ME MAYFITZ SCENE)


	3. Fitz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz promises May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for mentions of a non-consensual relationship and abuse.

* * *

 

She thinks it might be better if Jemma isn’t there.

Daisy agrees.

 

“Jemma, we both know Fitz, and we both know that he’s still thinking about it.” Daisy pauses, shifting in her stance. “ _Everything_.”

“Well, of course.” Jemma replies, indignantly, glancing first at Daisy, and then to May.  

 

May thinks that Jemma’s still thinking about it, too. _Everything_.

 

(aren’t they all?)

 

“And I knew him in the Framework.” May rubs her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut just for a moment. “I was there a lot longer than you.”

 

Daisy nudges Jemma and smiles lightly. “C’mon, it’ll be a girls’ night. We can see what space prison has in their movie collection, since I don’t think there’s any Wi-Fi. We can invite Elena, too.”

 

Jemma doesn’t respond to Daisy, or even look at her. She stares at May, and May stares back. Finally, she blinks, reaching up to brush a strand of hair that fell into her face. “I think… I think you’re right.”

May exhales. “He in your room?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll come get you in a bit.”

 

Jemma nods, eyes shifting towards the floor, biting her lip, and standing very, very still.

May watches as Daisy links her arm with Jemma’s, standing very, very still, but with her.

“Jemma.”

She looks up.

May meets her eyes and reaches out, gripping her shoulder gently. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

(But she always promises that, doesn’t she?)

 

 

 

She knocks on the door with one hand, and makes sure the two bottles she’s holding in the other is hidden from the view of the security camera.

There’s no response.

She knocks again, this time a bit louder.

Nothing.

She takes a deep breath and knocks again, the metal vibrating slightly.

“Fitz. Open up.”

 

She faintly hears clattering and rattling on the other side, and with a final clang, the door opens, but just a crack. But its enough so May can see that Fitz is standing there with his shirt wrinkled, his hair ruffled, his face expressionless.

And his eyes.

 

May knows those eyes.

She’s seen it when she looks into Daisy’s, when she looks into Jemma’s, when she looks into her own goddamn mirror and looks at herself staring back.

 

(They’re all haunted.)

 

May holds up the beers, not caring about the security camera anymore.

She won’t mind getting into trouble for this.

“Care for a drink?” She musters.

She watches as his eyes flit from the bottles to her face then back down to the bottles again. His hand tightens its grip on the door, and she pretends she doesn’t notice.

“May.”

“Yes?”

He shakes his head and looks down at the floor, scratching his cheek and opening the door all the way.

“Come in.”

She lets him close the door behind her, and she heads right towards the unmade bed. She pulls the blanket straight, and sighs as she sits down.

 

He watches her from the door.

“Well?” May holds out a beer to him. “I didn’t steal these for nothing.”

Fitz pauses.

“You… stole them.”

“Yeah.’ May dryly replies. “What, you think I bought them from the supermarket across the block? Now come on, or I’m gonna drink yours after I drink mine.”

 

She thinks that she might’ve seen a ghost of a smile on his face.

 

He makes his way over to her and sits on the edge of the bed, the furthest he could possibly be from her.

They each open their beers, and they each take a swig.

May reads the label.

Fitz stares out the window.

 

“We’re not friends.” May finally says, leaning back against the wall, rubbing the smooth glass of her bottle with her thumb.

“Okay.” Fitz finally says, quietly.

“We’ve gone through more than that, to just be ‘friends’.” May adds. “Don’t you think?”

“Okay.”

“So, I don’t know what you would call us, but I wouldn’t call us friends.”

“Okay.”

“You’re just going to say ‘okay’ to _everything_ I say?”

Fitz doesn’t reply to that, just taking a sip, which makes May snort.

 

“You going to make me talk the whole time?”

 

“May.” Fitz suddenly turns to face her, brows furrowed, his lips already a thin line. “What do you _want?_ ”

 

(She thinks that everything she wants to say just won’t be enough.)

 

“Nobody knew you as well as I did, back in the Framework.” She answers as he looks away, back towards the window.

“You knew The Doctor.” He snaps back immediately.

“Yes.” She agrees. “I knew The Doctor. And I knew the Director.”

She doesn’t continue, and waits for him to fill in the gaps of what he doesn’t want to hear and what she doesn’t want to say.

 

“I know you’re trying to forgive yourself, and that’s good.” May stops looking at him and instead focuses on the window, too. “And you know that no one blames you for what happened, and that’s good, too. But I don’t think it’s good to not talk about what else happened.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Fitz whispers.

She watches out of the corner of her eye as his hand begins to tremble, and he sets the beer on the floor.

“I think you do.”

 

Both his hands are shaking now, and he’s rubbing them forwards and backwards on his pants and May takes a swig before she sets down her beer, turns towards him, and places her hand on his.

 

He instantly flinches from her touch, and tears his hand from hers.

She pretends not to notice.

 

“You are not The Doctor.” May says. “You are not that man just as I am not that woman. But we still remember everything that happened. We remember entire lives that were _ours_. We remember thinking we made our own choices, but it wasn’t at all.”

“She manipulated you.”

She doesn’t want it to, and she pretends not to notice, but her voice cracks when she says those words.

 

“You don’t think I know that?” He balls his hands into fists, and bends forward, putting his head between his knees. May hears his heavy breathing, and she knows that he’s just trying to make himself as small as possible.

“I’m not here to play mind games with you, Fitz.”

“No, that was what _she_ did.” His voice is muffled, and it’s not his hands that tremble anymore, but his entire body.

 

May reaches out to touch him, but hesitates, dropping her hand and settling to place it in the space between them.

 

“I can still feel her touch, sometimes.” He says. “I feel it, and it disgusts me. I remember when I _wanted_ it, and I feel sick, and I remember when I didn’t, and I feel dirty.”

Fitz looks up at her, with his eyes that she knows too well, clouded with tears and hurt and ghosts, meeting hers. “I’m tired.”

 

“I know.” Is all she can reply.

 

He drops his head down again. “And…sometimes...” he whispers, so soft, so fearful. “I can’t even bear Jemma touching me.”

This is when May closes the distance between them and wraps her arm around his frame, and she thinks that she feels him flinch, but he doesn’t move away.

“Anything and everything that AIDA, both in the Framework and out, did was without your consent. The Doctor wanted it, but The Doctor was influenced. Programmed. Manipulated. The Doctor was in a relationship that _you_ never consented to.”

 

She rubs his back with her hand, and wishes that it could also carry some of the weight that he has to bear. Fitz chokes on a sob, and she has to swallow before she can continue.

 

“It’s always going to burn.” May whispers. “I won’t lie to you. Some days will be better than others, but you’re always going to have these scars. But _Fitz_.”

He inhales deeply, and she continues.

“Scars only mean that you are stronger than whatever tried to hurt you. Scars only mean that you are _alive_.”

May leans forward and lifts his chin so he can meet her gaze.

“Scars only mean that now, you can only go forward.”

 

Fitz sniffs and she lets go, letting him lift his own hands so he can wipe away the mist from his cheeks.

“O--okay.” He finally says, shakily.

“You and Jemma talked yet?” She says gently.

“Yeah.”

May stares at him until he sighs.

“No. Not really.”

 

“Well, maybe it’s time to change that.” May stands up and picks up her beer, heading towards the door. Her fingers are on the handle, when he calls out her name. She looks back at him, the young man sitting on the bed, and she blinks—for a moment, she can see the small boy who laid on the bed, unconscious as they all waited for him to wake up.

 

“Thanks.” Fitz says. “For not being my friend.”

She nods crisply, and then tightens her grip on the door.

“You know where I am, if you need me.”

Fitz clears his throat. “Yeah, I know. I promise.”

 

May opens the door and shuts it behind her, pausing to catch her breath before walking back down the hallway, walking away.

 

She thinks that, one day, she’ll finally promise that it’s going to be okay, and it will be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out to Leah and Em for betaing my messes, always

**Author's Note:**

> compliments and constructive criticism are appreciated and there are so many people to thank for this im going to, again, thank everyone at the end of the story to be an incentive to finish it :)


End file.
